


Something borrowed, something blue

by stjarna



Series: We won't let it [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fitz & Hunter Brotp, Gen, Jemma does not appear but is certainly topic, Missing scene to We won't let it, S5 spec, Spoilers, Tumblr Prompt, fitzsimmons mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 16:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12685221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: A prompt from @AGL03. Her headcanon is thatHunter is wearing Jemma’s recovery hoodie (which Fitz had given her) when he and Bobbi go undercover at the ATCU lab in S3. Additional summary (aka the actual prompt) in the notes for those avoiding S5 spoilers.Works as a missing scene forWe won't let it. But can be read as a stand-alone.





	Something borrowed, something blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AGL03](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGL03/gifts).



> Prompt: When Fitz and Hunter reunite in S5, Hunter returns the hoodie to Fitz. (Contains spoilers from NYCC and well… that thing about Hunter coming back that most already know anyways ;) )
> 
> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.
> 
> Banner by me (with advice from my husband)

 

The air is getting increasingly thick and hot in the small, run-down, and deserted hut in the middle of nowhere, where Fitz had spent the night. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he swats his neck when he feels some kind of insect bite him.

“Bloody hell!” he growls in annoyance, looking at his palm and the smudged black remains of a mosquito and a splatter of his own blood.

He groans, closing his laptop and leaning back in his chair. He hadn’t been able to charge the computer in this ruddy little place he’d stumbled across and he was down to only 15%. Fitz glances to the left of the device and reaches forward, picking up the empty water bottle, his last source of water. He scoffs, putting the bottle back down on the table, before looking at his watch and sighing.

Piper had called him on his burner phone twelve hours ago. He still couldn’t quite believe the thing actually had reception in the rotten desert he’d hiked through for the past two days, trying to shake the mysterious people who had abducted the rest of the team at the diner, leaving Fitz behind to be ‘taken care of… discreetly.’ Piper had told him she’d found backup and he’d done his best to give her his location. They’d separated almost two weeks ago, keeping communication to a minimum, only updating the other if they had to switch phones. Piper had taken the notebook Coulson had given her to find someone they could trust to help them rescue the others, and Fitz had grabbed the laptop he’d bought to try and figure out what had happened to Jemma and the rest of the team while taking their adversary on a cat and mouse hunt from state to state. There had been some close calls, but Fitz had always managed to avoid capture or the more terminal option his chaser seemed to prefer.

Now he’d been stuck in the little hut that offered next to no protection, waiting for Piper to pick him up. With every minute that passes, Fitz gets more and more antsy, fearing those following him are maybe just as close to finding him as Piper.

Fitz looks up, turning his head slightly and concentrating on the noise his ears had picked up. He jumps up when he recognizes it as a truck or van approaching, packing his laptop and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. He reaches for the ICER on the table and rushes for the window next to the door, moving the curtains just an inch to peek outside. An RV speeds closer, coming to a screeching halt in front of the building, blowing up dirt. Fitz squints, waiting for the dust to settle.

As soon as the door to the living space of the motor home opens and Fitz sees Piper, he swings the door to the hut open and steps outside. He stops in his tracks, his lips parting in surprise, when he catches sight of the driver, who has one elbow resting on the rolled down window.

“Get in!” he yells.

But all Fitz can do is mutter a disbelieving “Hunter?” in return, his feet rooted to the spot.

“You told me to find someone we can trust and who can help,” Piper shouts.

Fitz looks back and forth between the two, his mouth still gaping. “H-how did you—?”

“Coulson gave me everything I need, remember?” Piper explains.

Fitz’s eyes wander back to Hunter, his mind still not quite catching up that what—or rather whom—he sees is actually true.

Hunter stares back at Fitz, gesturing with his thumb in the direction of the backdoor. “Did you hear me say ‘Get in,’ mate?”

Fitz draws in a sharp breath, raising his eyebrows. He bops his head, muttering “Right,” before heading to the door and jumping into the RV.

Piper slaps him on the back, grinning widely. “Nice job, Jerry.”

Fitz wrinkles his forehead. “Wha—?”

“Cat and mouse.”

Fitz nods, mumbling a quiet “Right,” in return.

“How ‘bout we close that door, Pipster,” Hunter shouts from the driving cabin.

Piper’s face freezes mid-smile. She grabs the handle and slams the door shut. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, love,” Hunter yells back.

Both Fitz and Piper reflexively reach to their sides to find something to hold onto when Hunter puts the RV into gear, driving off as fast as he’d arrived.

“Told you not to call me that _either_!” Piper shouts.

Fitz can’t help the smile that flashes across his face.

* * *

Hunter had driven them west through New Mexico, only stopping briefly to fill up on gas. Fitz had thanked Piper for everything she’d done, and the fellow agent had accepted his gratitude with a wave of her hand and a nonchalant “Don’t sweat it.” They’d settled down at the small table in the back section, as the RV drove through the monotone landscape that slowly disappeared in darkness as the sun set below the horizon. Piper had offered Fitz water and a bag of chips, mumbling something about Hunter sucking at buying supplies, and Fitz had gratefully accepted. After two silent hours sitting across from her, during which Fitz couldn’t bring up the courage to talk more to Piper, Fitz had excused himself, heading to the back section where the bed was. The steady sound of the motor, the gentle bumps of the road, and the reassuring feeling that at least he wasn’t entirely alone anymore had eventually lulled his exhausted body to sleep somewhere around the border to Texas. It was a restless sleep, but sleep nonetheless. He’d woken up a few times, his dreams a strange mix of disturbing and sweet, but he didn’t bother getting up, every cell in his body longing for more rest.

He only decides to get out of bed when the sun’s first beams shine through the curtains. He sits up, stretching and twisting his body, feeling his sore muscles and stiff joints. He gets up, not bothering to put his shoes back on, dragging his feet across the floor to the front of the motor home, which shakes slightly side to side as it drives down the road.

Hunter looks up from the magazine he’s reading, sitting on the small couch next to the dinette, his legs propped up and crossed. “Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty.”

“How long did I sleep?”

“Not long enough to annoy Piper into telling me her first name,” Hunter replies, loud enough for his voice to travel to the driving cabin.

“Not gonna happen, Lance!” Piper’s voice shouts back from the front.

Hunter clicks his tongue, setting the magazine down on the couch and getting up himself, gesturing towards the cabin. “I told her mine. It doesn’t seem fair—”

“How long, Hunter?” Fitz asks matter of factly.

Hunter drops his hand, shrugging. “’Bout five hours.” He walks up to the dinette and squeezes onto one of the narrow benches. “Took a little power nap myself.”

Fitz sits down opposite him, his eyes wandering to the window. “Where are we?”

Hunter rests his forearms on the edge of the table, looking outside as well. “I’d love to say ‘We’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.’ But we’re in Kansas, Dorothy.”

Fitz sighs, turning to face Hunter. “Need me to drive?”

Hunter tilts his head to the side, pulling one cheek up. “No offense, mate, but you don’t look like you’re in any condition to drive.” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder towards the front of the RV. “Piper and I can handle it. We figured we’d keep driving a while longer and then plan out our next step.”

Fitz nods in silence, leaning his forearms against the table as Hunter had before, just as Hunter leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“So, Piper gave me a little update on everything. We leave you guys alone for one second and all hell breaks loose?”

“Yeah, well,” Fitz mumbles quietly, staring at his hands as he presses his thumb into his palm, “‘s my fault.”

Hunter shakes his head. “Not the story I heard.”

Fitz scoffs, never taking his eyes off his hands.

“Wouldn’t happen to know who won the pot?” Hunter asks.

Fitz looks up, furrowing his brows. “What pot?”

“Well, when you and Simmons would—” Hunter points at Fitz, wiggling his index finger side to side.

“You had a pool going?” Fitz asks in disbelief.

Hunter lifts his shoulders. “’Course we did. And believe it or not, I didn’t even start it.”

“Yeah, well.” Fitz looks back at his hands, beginning once again to massage the center of his palm. “Simmons and I. Jemma. We are… We were—” He shakes his head, biting his lower lip. “It’s complicated.”

Hunter lets out a single laugh. “It’s always complicated, mate. And yet, always simple.”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticks up involuntarily, but he feels his eyes well up. He draws in a shaky breath before exhaling sharply, lifting his chin in Hunter’s direction.

“Where’s Bobbi?” he asks, desperate to change the subject.

Hunter leans a little forward, resting one arm on the table and lifting his index finger importantly. “Even Barbara Morse the Stubborn and Magnificent had to agree that going on mission at six months pregnant probably wouldn’t be the best idea.”

Fitz’s eyes widen in surprise. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yes.” Hunter bops his head in confirmation, before bringing his index right in front of Fitz’s nose. “Don’t you dare ask if I’m the father—”

Fitz bows his head, avoiding his friend’s eyes. “Wasn’t gonna.”

“I know, mate. It was a—” Hunter lowers his hand, his expression softening. “Look, we’ll get her back. Them. All of them.” He purses his lips, gesturing with his hands. “I mean, we’re looking at six people here. That’s hard to hide. Especially considering one’s the size of a tree and one produces earthquakes. Oh, and I can’t wait to meet Speedy Gonzales.”

Fitz looks up, scoffing in amusement. “Might not wanna call her that if you want to see your offspring being born.” He straightens up, clearing his throat. “And we don’t have to look for them. I know where they are.”

Hunter raises his eyebrows. “You do?”

Fitz nods. “Yeah, well, sort of. I know where they’re _not_ : here.”

Hunter wrinkles his forehead, looking around the RV, before his eyes land back on Fitz. “I could have told you that, mate.”

“No, I mean, on Earth,” Fitz clarifies.

Hunter’s eyes double in size. “Come again?”

Fitz reaches to the end of the table, where he’d been charging his laptop and opens it. He pulls it closer and brings up some files, including an interactive map on which red circles radiate at a location in northern Wisconsin. He turns the device so that Hunter can see the screen, gesturing at the map.

“See this?” He bops his finger for emphasis. “That’s the same kind of energy signature we registered whenever the monolith dissolved; whenever it created a portal. And this location is damn close to one of the private airfields where one of the planes landed that left the airport where the van from the diner took them.”

“So you think—?” Hunter’s eyes are fixed on the red circles.

“They’re in space,” Fitz confirms Hunter’s suspicion.

Hunter grimaces as if the news had caused him physical pain, sighing deeply. “Simmons is gonna love that,” he mutters with his usual dry sarcasm.

Fitz blinks away the tears that are trying to push to the surface, sniffing slightly. His eyes wander to his fingers, which begin fidgeting with each other. “At least she’s not alone this time. Always said that was the worst part, the solitude until she found—” He stops, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Hunter points at the location on the map, stopping Fitz’s mind from wandering too far. “So, that right there is where we’re headed then, innit?”

Fitz looks up, nodding in confirmation. “Yep.”

Hunter gets half-way out of his seat, tapping the table top with his fingers. “I’ll tell Piper. Probably also time for a pit stop.”

* * *

Fitz looks up from his laptop when the door to the RV opens and Hunter climbs up the small steps to the living section. He’s carrying a bag with groceries in one arm, his head tilted sideways as he pins his phone between his ear and shoulder while he pulls the door closed behind him with his free hand. He lets his phone drop into his hand and brings it back up to his ear.

“Never do, my love, never do. You keep working on growing our offspring and I’ll be back in no time… Yeah. Will do… Love you too, Bob.” He hangs up, tucking the phone into his back pocket, and looks up at Fitz. “Bob says hi.”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth quirks up briefly and he nods as an acknowledgment, before closing his laptop, pushing it to the side.

Hunter puts the grocery bag down on the table, pulling out a sandwich and a bottle of water. He turns when the door to the bathroom opens and stretches his hand out in Piper’s direction. “There you go, love, breakfast is served.”

Piper glares at him in silence, grabbing the food and drink from him.

“Thank you, Lance,” she adds pointedly, and Fitz can’t help but chuckle quietly.

Hunter looks back at Piper, spreading his arms wide, palms up. “Oh, come on!”

“ _You_ stop calling me ‘love’ or ‘Pipster,’” Piper remarks, pointing at him with the sandwich, before switching direction and gesturing at herself, “— _I_ stop calling you Lance.”

Hunter lifts his shoulders apologetically. “I’m trying, lov—Piper.”

Piper takes a step closer, tapping her sandwich against Hunter’s chest and staring him down. “Try. Harder.” She turns, looking at Fitz, who’s trying in vain to suppress a grin. “How do you tolerate him?”

Fitz shrugs, pressing his lips together. “He grows on you.”

Piper squints, glaring back at Hunter through the corners of her eyes. “Yeah, like fungus or something.”

Hunter points at her. “Hey now, love, uncalled for.”

“It’s PIPER!” Piper yells, before turning around and disappearing into the driving cabin. A moment later, the motor starts up and a slight jerk runs through the RV as Piper puts the vehicle into gear and drives off the parking lot.

Hunter sways back and forth, keeping his balance. He reaches back into the paper bag, pulling out a six-pack of beer. He removes two bottles from the carrier, trying to hand one to Fitz.

Fitz glances at his watch before looking back at Hunter, squinting skeptically.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere!” Hunter remarks, waving the bottle closer.

Fitz scoffs, before accepting his friend’s offering. He stares at the familiar blue label for a moment. “You found [Bendeery](https://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/fictionalcompanies/images/8/8e/Bendeery.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20141124222425) here?”

“Mate!” Hunter extends his arms to the side in a _Do you even have to ask?_ gesture.

Fitz can’t help but chuckle. He opens the bottle, taking a big swig, while Hunter sits down across from him. Fitz places the bottle on the table, his thumb beginning to absentmindedly scratch at the label as the writing becomes blurry before his eyes, his mind wandering off and forgetting the world around him. He’s not sure how long they sit in silence. Probably not more than a few seconds, but it feels longer.

“I was going to propose,” Fitz confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up slowly to see Hunter’s reaction. One corner of Hunter’s mouth quirks up and for a moment he holds Fitz’s gaze. Then he purses his lips, lifting his shoulders.

“Something to look forward to then,” Hunter replies matter-of-factly, raising his bottle slightly as a toast, before taking a sip.

Fitz shakes his head. “After everything? You said Piper told you what happened. I lied to her, Hunter. I lied to Jemma! Tech _I_ helped create hurt her, almost _killed_ her. I killed an innocent woman right in front of her eyes. I almost killed _her_. I cheated on her with that—”

Hunter raises one hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there, mate.” He flips his hand palms up, gesturing at Fitz, his eyebrows furrowed. “Cheated on her? From what I heard, you didn’t have any say in the matter.”

Fitz presses his fingers into his chest. “I did. Every choice I made in the Framework was _my_ choice and I chose Ophelia—”

Hunter’s eyes widen with skepticism. “Did you choose to go into that Workframe thing?

“Framework,” Fitz corrects him, his eyes wandering to the table. “No, but I—”

“No, mate,” Hunter interjects sternly, shaking his head. “No ‘but’! You didn’t cheat on her and I highly doubt she sees it that way!”

Fitz looks back up, lifting his shoulders, staring at his friend helplessly. “What about the other things?” He drops his gaze, shaking his head. “She can’t forgive me. She _shouldn’t_.”

Fitz waves his hand horizontally over the table. “It’s done, Hunter. Our relationship is—”

“Your relationship is stronger than that,” Hunter interrupts, pointing at Fitz with determination in his eyes.

Fitz’s lips twitch and he shrugs. “How do you know?” he asks quietly, his eyes filling with tears.

“’Cause we’re not that different, mate,” Hunter replies without hesitation. “You and Jemma. Me and Bobbi.” He throws one hand in the air. “Hell, we even have the whole ‘prefer to go by our last names, but addressing our lasses by their first’ thing in common.”

Fitz scoffs briefly, one corner of his mouth ticking up almost reflexively. He scratches at the label of his Bendeery before bringing the beer to his lips.

“We have our ups and downs, mate,” Hunter continues. “We have our betrayals and lies. All of us. You, her, me, Bob, every bloody person you’ve ever met! No one is innocent.”

Hunter pauses for a moment, tilting his head slightly, trying to get Fitz to look at him. Reluctantly, Fitz complies with his friend’s silent request.

“If Bobbi and I can make it,” Hunter moves on, gesturing first at himself with his bottle, before tipping it in Fitz’s direction, “then you and Simmons can, too. Easily!” He shrugs. “I used to refer to Bob as a demonic hell-beast. Now we’re snuggled up in bed on Sundays, picking out baby names, and the worst argument we’ve had in the last few months was disagreeing over what color to paint the nursery.”

Fitz can’t help but chuckle weakly, before taking another swig from his beer.

“Simmons’ and your relationship is stronger than that, Fitz, and together you’ll figure it out and work through it and come out the other end even stronger than before.”

A weak, one-sided smile flashes across Fitz’s face as the wish to believe Hunter’s argument briefly wins over Fitz’s guilt and unwillingness to forgive himself. He draws in a breath, before sighing deeply.

“Yeah, well, we’re not together _now_ ,” he mutters, bringing his beer back to his lips. “Bloody cosmos mucking things up for us again.”

Hunter waves him off. “We’ll find her. We’re already on our way.”

Fitz presses his lips together, nodding weakly. “Yeah, suppose so.”

Hunter takes another swig before setting the bottle down on the table with a loud clank. He gets up from his seat, pointing at Fitz and muttering a quick “Hold on a second,” before rushing to the back of the RV.

Fitz turns halfway but can’t see well enough to check what Hunter’s doing. He squints in confusion, when he hears Hunter zip open a bag. A moment later, Hunter appears again. He squeezes back onto the narrow bench of the dinette, handing Fitz a bunched up piece of dark heather fabric.

Fitz takes the bundle, staring at it, completely befuddled. “What’s tha—?” He lifts it higher and the jacket slowly unfolds in his hands. Fitz’s eyes widen in surprise. “Is that my hoodie?”

“ _Your_ hoodie?” Hunter wrinkles his forehead. “I thought it was Simmons’?”

“I loaned it to her when she came back from—” Fitz mutters quietly, staring at the hoodie, when realization hits him. He looks back at Hunter. “You _stole_ her hoodie?”

“Not stole. Borrowed.” Hunter shrugs, innocently. “I needed it to go undercover with Bob at that ATCU lab. Mine was in the laundry and that one was fresh out of the dryer.”

“Borrowed?” Fitz repeats loudly, in disbelief. “It’s been—what?—a _year_?”

“Well, the whole disavowed thing made it a bit difficult to return it. I mean Coulson handed us each a bag with stuff,” Hunter replies, defensively, gesturing at himself. “Not my fault he thought the hoodie was—” He pauses, waving his hand to the side, indicating that he won’t continue to rant. “Anyway, look, mate, you’re separated right now—and I strictly mean that as in physically separated by the bloody cosmos, as you like to call it. But it won’t be for long.”

Hunter waits for Fitz to look up, before tapping his index finger against his own chest. “I’m gonna make sure of that, because if I don’t, my wife’s going to kick my scrawny London arse.”

Fitz scoffs quietly in amusement, one corner of his mouth ticking up at the thought.

Hunter bops his head decisively. “And even with a belly the size of a watermelon that woman would win hands down!”

Fitz raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue in agreement, before taking a sip of his beer.

Hunter picks up his own bottle, tipping the top in the direction of the hoodie in Fitz’s hands. “But until we get you and Simmons back together, why don’t you hold on to this? You can give it back to her. Consider it your ‘something borrowed.’” He ticks his head to one side. “ _And_ something ‘old’. And until then, it can remind you of her.”

A smile flashes across Fitz’s face and he can’t resist the urge to bring the hoodie up to his nose, inhaling its scent. He grimaces, looking back at Hunter. “It smells like you.”

One corner of Hunter’s mouth ticks up and he shrugs apologetically. “Yeah, well, it’s the best I can do, mate.”

A sharp puff of air escapes Fitz’s nostrils. His eyes wander back to the hoodie and he lets his fingers glide over the dark fabric, before mumbling a quiet, “Thank you.”

For a moment, Fitz simply stares at the jacket, his mind wandering back to when he’d pulled it out of his closet and helped Jemma put it on when she’d sat shivering in his bunk after her return from Maveth.

“Bendeery is blue,” Hunter’s voice jerks Fitz back to reality.

He lifts his head, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Wha—?”

“Something old and something new, something borrowed, something—” Hunter lifts his bottle a bit higher, pointing at the label, and Fitz can’t help but laugh, shaking his head.

“Best beer in the world,” Hunter adds, wide-eyed. “Just sayin’.”

Fitz chuckles. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Hunter raises his hands, palms forward. “All I’m asking, mate. All I’m asking.” He pauses, pursing his lips and tilting his head to one side, gazing at the ceiling contemplatively. Then he looks back at Fitz, flicking his index finger. “Oh, and naming your first-born after me,” he adds matter-of-factly.

Once again, Fitz can’t seem to resist laughing over his friend’s sense of humor. He lifts his chin in Hunter’s direction. “How ‘bout you name _your_ own kid after yourself instead.”

Hunter takes another swig of his beer, shaking his head. “Girls, mate. Twin girls. I’m gonna be outnumbered three to one, my friend.”

“With Bobbi, you’ve _always_ been outnumbered, Hunter,” Fitz counters drily.

Hunter throws his head back, letting out a single laugh, before extending his arm, raising his bottle. “To strong women! May they tolerate our sorry arses.”

One corner of Fitz’s mouth ticks up into a half-smile. He clanks his bottle against Hunter’s. “To strong women,” he repeats thoughtfully, his eyes wandering back to the hoodie and his mind drifting off to the woman he’d hoped to spend the rest of his life with.


End file.
